


Trouble Brewing

by BialystockAndBloom



Series: Peccate et Sapienter [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Elias Bouchard (mentioned) - Freeform, Exposition, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Martin Blackwood (implied), Mild Language, jon is suspicious, rosie be on her celled phone, tim is an architect buff, uhhh oh god idk what else to tag this as
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:46:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22157245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BialystockAndBloom/pseuds/BialystockAndBloom
Summary: Dr. Lionel Elliot.Dr. Adelaide Simmons.Dr. Tomas Dolenz.Three professors, all with discrete, unrelated run-ins with the supernatural. Their only connection? Their place of work - King's College, London.Jon is starting to think that there might be something amiss happening.
Series: Peccate et Sapienter [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1588075
Kudos: 13





	Trouble Brewing

It was a dreary December day in London. Were it only a degree or two colder, snow would be coating the buildings, blanketing the city in a gentle layer of white. But, as it stood, rain fell miserably from the skies.

Jon was slightly disappointed by that. He’d always loved the snow. While he was by no means an outdoors sort of child, some of the rare happy memories he had growing up involved him outside with his grandmother, building snowmen. He couldn’t help but let out a wistful sigh as he thought about him and his _Teete Elmira_ , gathering sticks, finding the perfect stones for their eyes, helping her root through boxes of old, mothbare clothes in the closet to dress them up.

_What a simple time_ , Jon reflected.

What a simple time indeed. Jon’s train of thought shifted from his childhood to his start at the Institute. It was rounding up on the two-year anniversary of his becoming Head Archivist, by that point. It seemed like such a nice, cushy job at first. Listen to a few oddballs talk about how they saw the boogeyman, record a few written statements laying around, try to figure out how his predecessor organized her work (if she did at all). He thought hopefully, he could find some answers about Jurgen Leitner – the man who ruined his childhood – and get some closure, so he could go on with his life. But, as luck would have it, he ended up nearly being killed by a living hive of worms, and shortly thereafter, encountering some sort of demon who abducted a woman who came to him for help.

And now, _this_.

Dr. Lionel Elliot.

Dr. Adelaide Simmons.

Dr. Tomas Dolenz.

Three people, all with unique supernatural encounters, all at different times, all unrelated, save for the fact that all three of them are professors at King’s College.

_What’s the old saying_ , Jon wondered to himself. _Once is luck, twice is coincidence, thrice is enemy action?_

Jon tore himself away from the window. He walked back to his desk, where he had all the relevant case files laid out. He’d been combing through them, looking for something, anything to connect them beyond their occupation, and so far, he’d found nothing. He didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but he also couldn’t deny the pattern emerging.

There is a possibility that a supernatural entity is targeting the faculty of King’s University.

He grabbed the files and made his way towards the Archival Assistants’ Offices, which was just down the hall, past the receptionist, down another hall, and through the first door on the left. Jon never understood why his assistants worked so far away from his office. There were a few other doors in the hall adjoining his office and the receptionist’s – a unisex bathroom, a room packed nearly to the brim with filing cabinets, a supply closet (which was currently filled to the brim with cans of Raid and a few straggling fire extinguishers, leftover from all those months ago) – but, he supposed, it wasn’t without its benefits. He liked that he wasn’t crowded. On a good day, he could walk in, say hello to Rosie, work in silence for a few hours, say goodbye to Rosie, and walk out. Frankly, at this stage in his life, that’s all the socialization he needed – especially from his coworkers.

But, as he entered the lobby and mumbled some generic pleasantry to the receptionist, he realized that he’d have a little more socialization than he’d prepared himself for. The main doors swung open, and in from the rain walked Tim.

“Oh. Hi, boss,” Tim said, sounding surprised.

“Hello. And you don’t have to call me boss, you know. I’m your friend.”

Tim did not respond. He just stood there, looking at him.

Growing anxious, Jon decided to break the silence. “Right. Where – are you sick? Are you just coming in now?”

“No,” he replied. “I was just on a smoke break.”

“Oh. You smoke?”

Tim turned to check the receptionist’s desk, and saw that Rosie was staring at her computer, her earbuds in.

“Well, no, I don’t. But, Elias doesn’t need to know that, and the time we get for smoke breaks is _just_ long enough to make it to Starbucks and back,” he said, drawing attention to the frappe he had in his hand.

He laughed gently at his own clever ploy. Jon laughed too, and for a moment, he could almost pretend that things were fine between them again.

“What are you doing out of your office? It feels like you’ve been cooped up in there for the past few weeks.”

“Right. I was actually just on my way to see Martin.”

“Really?” Tim asked, incredulously. “I never thought I’d live to see the day that Jonathan Sims would actively seek out Martin Blackwood. What’s the occasion?”

“Well, it’s… oh, how do I word this? It’s not exactly private, but…”

“Oh, wait,” Tim interrupted. “Is this – are you and them – I thought that you and the policewoman…”

“No, Tim! It’s, it’s nothing like that. I just have a bit of a special project for him.”

Tim’s eyebrows raised at that. Not wanting to make himself appear even more suspicious to him, he realized he had no choice but to fill him in. Which was fine, he supposed – he just didn’t want to have the same talk twice with two different people.

“Alright. Do you remember last year when that professor from King’s University came in?”

Tim nodded.

“Right. Well, I was looking through the files, and it turns out, that there was another professor from King’s who had a supernatural experience at roughly the same time. And, as it turns out, a _third_ went through something similar.”

“Really? Well, then again, I suppose it’s to be expected,” said Tim.

“How do you follow?”

“Oh, right, sorry, you wouldn’t know. Do you want to take a guess at exactly who designed the better part of KC’s buildings?”

“Is it our favorite architect -”

“Robert Smirke,” they said in unison.

“Bang on,” Tim continued. “If you go to the Strand Campus there – the college’s original campus, mind you – it was built almost entirely by Smirke. The King’s Building, Chapel, and East Wing of the Somerset House were all his work, though, admittedly, the chapel was remodeled a few years after completion, and the East Wing was just following designs originally made by Sir William Chambers’, which, though not his own work, I still find to be one of his better examples of…”

He trailed off.

“Right,” Tim continued, “that’s the stuff you wouldn’t really be interested in. The point is, the man’s handiwork is all over the place. Frankly, I’m not surprised that there haven’t been more people from there coming to us, given how his buildings always seem to be a hotspot for spooky bullshit. What do you want Martin to do?”

“I was honestly just going to ask him to go back there and ask around if anyone else has had any encounters with the paranormal.”

“…why?”

“Pardon?”

“I mean. Are you literally going to have him go from person to person, asking if they’ve seen any spooks, spectres, or ghosts?”

“Well, not _exactly_ in those words or with that methodology, but…”

“Look. Here’s what I’d suggest. And I know you’ll probably blow it off because I’m sure you have your own marvelous schemes, but, nevertheless. The King’s Building is the focal point of the campus. Seven stories tall, can’t miss it. You’re going to want to get a list of any professor who’s ever taught in that building specifically, and _especially_ anyone in the Edmond J. Safra Lecture Hall. Also, on the top floor, there’s an Anatomy Theatre, and I’ll bet you a hundred quid that at least _someone_ there has some gross story about meat ghosts or dancing cadavers or something equally grotesque.”

With that, Tim, turned to leave.

Jon called after him, “Wait!”.

Tim turned on his heels, but did not say anything.

“Well… one, thank you, we’ll look into that – and I don’t mean that in the ‘yes Missus Cogglesworth, we’ll look into the ghosts upstairs who laugh and play rock music at 8 PM every Saturdays’, I mean I’ll, uh… I’ll do that, verbatim. But also, is there anything else you can think of?”

“What happened to this being ‘private’ between you and Martin?”

“Look, really it was just I didn’t want Elias getting involved,” he said.

_And I didn’t want you involved, either_ , he thought. He decided that that bit was best kept to himself.

“Why not?”

The best Jon could come up with was, “I don’t know. He’s a bit… weird, right?”.

“Weird? Here? In the Magnus Institute? Surely not.”

“Okay, yes, Tim, I know this is a weird place in general but…”

“Listen,” he interrupted. “I couldn’t really be bothered one way or the other about what happens here. I just wanted to share some facts about architecture, make sure you’re not wasting our time, and be on my way.”

Jon’s gaze suddenly fell to the floor. “I understand,” he said. “That’s fine.”

“I’m not done talking. _But_ , if this is something you think would piss Elias off if he found out about, I want in on it.”

Jon perked up again. “Really?”

“Look, you _must_ know I don’t quite care to work here. It… gives me the willies, for lack of a better term. So, if I have the chance to do something to get out of here for a bit and spite Elias, that’s two birds with one stone. Plus, it would be nice to visit some of my old uni haunts again.”

“I thought you went to Trinity?”

“Oh, no, I did. But I had a boyfriend who went to King’s. Well – not a boyfriend, a friend with benefits. Or not even that, to be honest. Maybe more of a fuck buddy? It’s not important. The point is, I’ve been there before and I’d like to see it again.”

“Well, Tim, that’s – that’s wonderful! Thank you so much, any help is appreciated. Should I tell Martin?”

“Oh, no need to, I’ll tell them. Sasha too?”

“Well – sure, why not.”

And with that, Tim turned to leave again. Only this time, as he did so, he looked back over his shoulder at Jon.

“Take care,” he exclaimed.

“You too,” Jon said reflexively.

As Tim went back to the Archival Assistants’ Offices, Jon stood there, frozen in place.

In all honesty, he didn’t fully trust Tim. Martin, he could… tolerate. He seemed nonthreatening enough. He was competent, to be sure, but something nagging told him that there was no way he could ever kill Gertrude – a nagging feeling that was absent for Tim.

But, in that moment, he started to change his mind. He was suddenly reminded that they were friends, once. It had been the first conversation they had in a few weeks where one of them hadn’t stormed out on the other. It was nice. An idea flashed into his mind, an assertion that Tim, too, had to be innocent.

But then, it faded away.

It’s a dangerous world. Jon had to remember that. He was lucky enough that he hadn’t been pulled into whatever hell-maze claimed Helen Richardson on his way from his office to here.

He couldn’t deny that it was a nice thought, though, that they might be friends again.

**Author's Note:**

> Me: Okay. I'm going to try to keep this series as close to canon as possible to immerse the reader.  
> Me: But what if Tim and Jon were friends, actually???


End file.
